


The Disagreeable Obligation of Being in Company

by Courtney621



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Emma - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtney621/pseuds/Courtney621
Summary: Mr. Darcy meets a kindred spirit.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 93





	The Disagreeable Obligation of Being in Company

Fitzwilliam Darcy was in want of a quiet, introverted friend who did not insist on dragging him places and forcing him to socialize. Bingley, of course, was hopeless, and Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was hardly an improvement.

"Come, Darcy, you talk enough to me," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, trying to rally his spirits.

"Talking to one's family is not quite the same as talking to strangers at a party, particularly when the party is hosted by a mere passing acquaintance of the aforementioned family member."

"Ah, little cousin, your life is a difficult one."

He was not wrong there.

“And the Wilsons are not passing acquaintances, Darcy. I know them well. It is only natural that I should attend their party. And before you say anything else,” he added, for Darcy had opened his mouth to speak, “they have extended the invitation to include you, and would be honored by the presence of _Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley_.”

Darcy scowled.

“I really cannot avoid going, not when such allowances have been made," said Fitzwilliam firmly.

“What is so important about these people that makes it absolutely essential for you to attend?” Darcy was not whining. He did not whine. 

“Is not the prospect of an enjoyable evening enough?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, airily waving a hand. “Must a man have a reason for attending a party?”

“A man must not, but I believe _you_ do.”

“Ah, well,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, grinning, “a certain Miss Hawthorne has been invited, and I confess it is her company, rather than the party in general, that is of particular interest.”

“Of course it is,” said Darcy dryly. “And why can you not make my excuses?”

“Because you do not get out enough, Darcy, and as your elder cousin, it is my responsibility to bring you into society.”

Darcy looked at him darkly, which did nothing but deepen the colonel’s smirk. 

“Besides, Darcy, your father may have appointed me joint guardian of Georgiana, but I believe he also meant for me to keep an eye on you, to make sure you have a little bit of enjoyment now and then.”

Darcy continued to glower, but felt the futility of opposing his cousin.

“Very well,” he said. “I will go. But I shall not enjoy it.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam only laughed.

*** 

The party was just as Darcy feared it would be: loud and overcrowded with unfamiliar faces.

“I am not acquainted with anyone here.”

“You can be _introduced_ , Darcy.”

“I do not know what to say to strangers.”

“Ah, but your attempts at conversation have never been what one may call _strenuous_ , have they?”

“It does not come as easily to me as it does to you.”

“Well, Darcy, we were not all born with your looks and wealth. We have had to learn other ways to be agreeable.” Colonel Fitzwilliam paused, catching the eye of a young lady who, though pretty, was rather ostentatiously over-trimmed. “Ah, you will have to excuse me, but I must go speak with Miss Hawthorne.”

And with that, he left Darcy to fend for himself.

***

It had been some time since his cousin had abandoned him to flirt outrageously with Miss Hawthorne, and Darcy had used it to find a mostly empty corner to lurk in. He was not hiding. He did not hide. Several young ladies had already tried to catch his eye, but he had steadfastly ignored them. The only people near to him now were a tallish young man and a pretty, plump woman who Darcy supposed to be his wife. The man was speaking loudly, and though Darcy tried his best not to listen, he could not help hearing the vast majority of what passed between them.

“The Wilsons must be very pleased with themselves, indeed, to invite such a crowd. I do not know that they have any particular reason to be. The room is certainly not very grand, and it is very ill-lit.” 

“It certainly could be brighter,” his wife agreed.

“I would much rather have declined the invitation,” the man continued. “It does not suit my feelings to leave little Henry at home with his cold, simply to attend a party where one recognizes scarcely half a dozen people altogether. Why should I venture out of my own house and away from my sick child, simply to attend a dull party given by people who neither of us care for? It would be a much better use of our time to sit by our own fire and enjoy our own company.”

Darcy questioned the propriety of delivering this speech at such a volume, as it could be easily overheard by anyone who happened to pass by, but he could not argue with the substance of it.

“I, too, would have much preferred to stay at home with the children,” his wife answered, “but little Henry is doing so much better now, almost entirely improved, and he is in very capable hands with Lucy. That is all your doing, my dear. You have the very best judgment in nurses.”

The man made a huffy noise and murmured something that Darcy could not hear.

“Very true, my love, very true,” said the woman. “And if I had my way, we would never leave the children. But it would have been an insult to decline the invitation, even though we have not seen the Wilsons in such a long time, so I am afraid we will have to bear with it as well as we can.”

The couple walked a little further away, the man in a very poorly-disguised bad temper, leaving Darcy more exposed to the room at large. His view now unobscured, he was surprised to see that he was not entirely without acquaintance here. A bald, lanky sort of man seemed to be trying to grab Darcy’s attention, and he recognized Sir Richard Fanshawe, an old friend of his father’s. He turned his head quickly away and pretended not to have noticed. The man was an inveterate talker.

“Darcy! Fitzwilliam Darcy!”

Oh, well. He had tried.

“Sir Richard, how are you?”

“Very well indeed, my dear boy. Very well indeed. It has been an age since I have seen you last! Not since your father died, if I recall.”

Darcy agreed that his memory was quite exact.

“A better friend I never had,” sighed Sir Richard. “A sad loss for us all.”

They carried on in this manner for at least a quarter of an hour, Sir Richard providing much of the conversation and in need of no encouragement, as was his wont. He talked of his business affairs, and his recent travels, and his horses, and treated Darcy to many anecdotes about old Mr. Darcy, all of which Darcy had heard at least five times over. He smiled politely, though even to himself it seemed unconvincing, and were he to catch a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he was sure it would be better classified as a grimace.

“Ah! There goes another young acquaintance of mine!” Sir Richard’s attention was caught by the same young man Darcy had overheard earlier, and he eagerly beckoned him over. The man reluctantly approached. “Have you met Mr. John Knightley?”

Darcy and Knightley bowed to each other stiffly.

“Mr. Knightley, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. I was a friend of his father’s. How fortunate that he is visiting London and can join us at this delightful party. Mr. Darcy, I was a friend of _Mr. Knightley’s_ father.”

He smiled at them both, obviously pleased by this coincidence and not at all disconcerted by their silence. Darcy wondered how many more paternal reminiscences they were about to be subjected to, and Mr. Knightley looked as if he was thinking much the same.

“Oh, do excuse me,” Sir Richard said suddenly, before he could launch into another story. He was looking somewhere beyond Mr. Knightley’s shoulder. “I must go speak to Sir Robert. It is a matter of some import, I am afraid, or else I would not leave you. Business, you know." He nodded gravely. "But business among friends need not be so odious, after all, and there are many old friends in attendance tonight!”

And he left the two younger men staring blankly at each other. Darcy did not thank Sir Richard for forcing this introduction and then scampering away so quickly afterward. What could he possibly have to say to this stranger, who was only connected to him by one well-meaning but vexing mutual friend of their fathers?

Mr. John Knightley looked as pained as Darcy felt. Darcy’s expression must have been similarly uncomfortable, however, because Mr. Knightley said, “Disagreeable, this,” and nodded vaguely at the room in general.

“Quite,” agreed Darcy.

“Are you well acquainted with the Wilsons?”

“Not at all,” said Darcy. “I had never seen them before this evening. I am here with my cousin.”

“They are my wife’s relations,” muttered Knightley. “She assures me that I have met them, that I knew them in Surrey, but I have no recollection of it.”

Darcy, unsure of how to reply, merely nodded. Knightley, unsure of what to say next, looked idly about the room. 

“Are you visiting London long?” Knightley finally asked, aware that their stalled conversation was becoming awkward.

“No, I will be returning to my home in Derbyshire by the end of the week.”

Something like amusement flooded his companion’s face.

“So you are the rich young gentleman from the north,” Knightley smirked.

Darcy pondered, fleetingly but fervently, the logistics involved in murdering his cousin, but doubted whether he could get away with it.

“The news of your attendance caused quite a stir in certain circles, I am told.”

Perhaps he could orchestrate some sort of accident with the army.

“You will want to be on your guard,” said Knightley, more seriously. “I have seen several of the more ambitious mothers in action and they can be quite shamelessly interfering.”

Darcy, though not unacquainted with these types, was nevertheless grateful for the warning.

Their conversation flagged once more.

“Perhaps I would not say so if you were not soon to be leaving town, Mr. Darcy,” said Knightley abruptly, “but I am not very fond of parties and do not particularly recommend myself in company. I am afraid I am rather dependent on the assistance of my wife, or on a Sir Richard Fanshawe, to encourage conversation.”

“I perfectly understand you, sir,” said Darcy, grateful for this refreshing honesty. “I am much the same way.”

Knightley looked relieved. “Then you will not mind if we do not rattle away like the rest of the party?”

“Not at all.”

They gazed over the room, their silence no longer awkward.

“This is a welcome change from the usual way of things,” said Knightley some time later, sounding more cheerful than Darcy had yet known him. “I could bear with parties much better if they were more often like this. My wife, bless her, never complains, but my brother has scolded me many times for my behavior.”

Darcy nodded. “I experience the same from my cousin. He does not understand that it is not that I am _incapable_ of being sociable. It is just that I prefer not to be.” 

“Exactly so,” said Knightley. “My wife’s sister is the same way. She finds me very disagreeable at times, just because she enjoys being in company and I would rather avoid it.”

“There is something very tiresome in being forced into these social obligations, just because they wish it. I do not insist that everyone read quietly at home to please _me_.”

“Indeed. There is a kind of tyranny in it. Why is their view of agreeability the correct one? I certainly do not find it to be so.”

They lapsed into a satisfied silence, each feeling very well understood by the other.

Darcy and John Knightley spent the evening this way, willing to observe the preening of the rest of the room from the sidelines without joining in, and enjoying, instead, the refuge of like-minded company. They talked, though not exhaustively, about the tediousness of parties, the comfort of staying in one’s own home, and the evils of being forced into public with people one did not know well, and they parted without promising any further communication.

It was good to meet a kindred spirit.

**Author's Note:**

> I have always loved the idea of Mr. Darcy and Mr. John Knightley being friends who see each other (very occasionally) in town to complain about their acquaintances and how awful parties are. Ah, my socially-reluctant boys.


End file.
